


everything's makin' sense, too. baby, I'm so in love with you.

by blafard



Series: and they were roommates [4]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - College/University, First Kiss, Fluff, Kissing, Light Angst, Lit Nerd!Baz, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Roommates, They Finally Kiss, artist!simon, its super cute ngl, they blush a lil bit bc theyre soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 04:46:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20040145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blafard/pseuds/blafard
Summary: He painted Baz's hair in the deepest black he could find, his eyes in the clearest grey, lit up by the soft yellow light of the sun, as they sat next to their window, his lips in the softest pink he could find and his teeth in a shining white.It took hours upon hour for him to finish his face and hair alone but when he did he simply stared.





	everything's makin' sense, too. baby, I'm so in love with you.

**Author's Note:**

> title from "best part of me" but ed sheeran 
> 
> I'd recommend catching up with the last part or the whole series before reading this!

"Absolutly not."

"You agreed to let me see behind that stoic facade of yours, so why say no?"

"Because drawing me in my favorite environment is something else than when I'm grieving my mother!"

Simon stilled at that, his mind wandering to the pages he had filled with the raw emotion of Baz's pale eyes, the sketches he wanted to make permanent on a canvas, but couldn't since he knew Baz would turn him down.

He didn't realize that Baz was sad whenever his mother came up.

Was he also sad in the library, surrounded by books he knew from his mother's office? Was that the reason why he looked so utterly done that one night in their dorm?

"I'm-- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry," Simon muttered, his voice small and quiet. He had always suspected that family was a touchy subject for Baz, but suspecting something and knowing it were two different things.

Baz stiffened at that, his eyes softened for only a moment until they turned hard again and gave Simon a curt nod.

He decided to drop it for now.

* * *

It was another rainy day. Simon was sitting on his bed, while Baz leaned against his own, a book in his lap and a hot cup of tea next to him.

It was nice to just exist without having to talk, which was a fairly recent development between them.

Ever since they went to the library together, they have not grown closer per se, but more comfortable around each other and learned to appreciate small moments that were no longer filled with awkward tension and scalding comments.

"I will never understand how you can read an entire book in one sitting," said Simon, finally breaking the silence between them. He wasn't someone that could stay still and be quiet for long. Sometimes it was nice, but he always reached a certain limit after a few hours.

"You're clearly reading the wrong books then," retorted the man in question, then he turned another page and took a small sip of tea to emphasize his point.

"To be honest, I don't read any books if I can help it," the blond admitted, a sheepish smile on his lips. Baz looked shocked at Simon's confession, his mouth opened in a way that reminded Simon a lot of cartoons out of his childhood.

"That's a crime. How can you not read books?" Baz questioned, his surprise and shock barely concealed.

Simon had to suppress a laugh. Trying to school his expression into something at least slightly serious, he clasped his hands in front of himself and said, "Why do you think I started studying art? Sure, we have to read articles and excerpts but most of it involves _making_ something."

"So, you're telling me you never experience the joy of sitting down with a new book, cracking open its cover and getting lost in a story?"

"Yes?"

"That's sad."

A beat of silence.

Then Simon couldn't hold in his laughter anymore. Baz looked confused to say the least. He had already put down his book, a neat bookmark placed between the pages, and pushed his hands into his glossy hair, a small frown appearing between his eyebrows.

"I fail to see how this is funny. You're missing out on so many stories that have deeply touched _thousands_, if not _millions_ of people and live in complete ignorance of it."

Trying to contain his amusement, Simon pressed a jeweled hand against his mouth, his eyes still giving away how funny he finds this whole conversation.

"Look," he began, a tiny smile tugging at his lips, after he calmed down, "I will read any book you want me to... if and only _if_ you don't close off again."

Then it was quiet again, all playfulness gone in an instant. Simon knew what he asked of Baz, or at least he had an idea, but he also wanted to get the permission to crack Baz's mask. His assignment would have to be finished in about a month and so far he had only captured Baz experiencing superficial feelings and nothing deeper.

He wanted to see _who_ Baz was.

Not only for a good grade, but because he longed to get to know the other.

Baz swallowed visibly. Simon saw how the other fought with himself not to close off like all the times before, saw how much he struggled to appear unaffected by Simon's demand.

But the blond didn't want to back down. Not now, not when he was so close to getting what he wanted.

"Any book I want?" he asked, his voice a little broken at the end.

Simon hated that he was the reason for it, but he needed to do it.

"Any book you want."

* * *

Any book Baz wanted, turned out to be a book with all Shakespearean plays collected into one.

Not only didn't Simon understand half of the things the characters said, he also found them all deeply annoying and dramatic in an amusing way.

Baz had looked appalled when Simon told him that he skipped over Shakespeare's plays in high school and simply read a summery from the internet, so now he was punished with carrying around a collection of around a thousand pages whenever Baz was around.

"Seriously, Baz? Why do I have to carry it around all the time?"

"I just love to see you suffer, Snow, and now hurry up before my father notices that we are around," he replied, an irritated scowl on his face, when he opened the front door to their literal mansion.

Simon rolled his eyes but followed the other man nonetheless, his gaze briefly flying over the many paintings on the walls, until they disppaeared into a room not far from the stairs.

The room was dark and smelled a little dusty. Baz quickly flicked on a light, closed the door behind them softly, since it was 1am and his entire family would be sleeping by now and then moved behind the desk in front of a huge window that allowed the soft glow of the moon to light up a part of the room.

It took a few seconds for Simon to realize where they were.

And when he did, he almost dropped his bag.

"Your mother's office? Baz-- you didn't--"

"But I wanted to," he interrupted quickly. He slowly traced the soft leather of a worn chair behind the desk, his fingers almost delicate in their motions, his eyes glazed over in a way that told Simon that he was deep in memories.

He wanted to put it on paper, so he dropped down onto the floor, opened his leather bag and pulled out his sketchbook. He opened the book to a page pretty far at the back, since all the other pages were already filled with ideas and sketches of different people and things, but mostly Baz in the last few weeks, and then began to draw.

The lines were surer than the first few sketches he did. He already knew all the angles and curves of Baz's face and body to an extent and it filled him with a certain happiness, that he was the one to make the other boy permanent, to capture all the small shifts in his face, whenever he moved even slightly.

A few minutes later, Baz pulled out the chair, his lips pulled down in a way that indicated that he felt bittersweet sadness. His mother used to sit here for hours on end and grade papers while little Baz sat next to her on the floor probably, their bond so strong that they didn't need a single word or even look to feel the other around them.

Simon thought that he would have loved to meet Natasha himself, because he knew that she must have been _extraordinary_ to have such a extraordinaire son.

* * *

Another time he drew Baz laughing at one of Simon's silly stories, his head thrown back, his hair flowing down his head in waves Simon wanted to bury his fingers in, a wide smile on his perfect lips.

He had to read _Wuthering Heights_ after that.

* * *

Baz had looked empty after a particularly bad night, his thoughts muddy and the rings underneath his eyes almost darker than the nightmares in his head.

Simon wanted to take that burden off the other man's shoulders, wanted to hear all about them until the other looked like normal Baz again, but he couldn't, so he simply put everything on paper and hoped that Baz would soon feel like himself again.

* * *

_Frankenstein_ turned out to be one of his favourites, because he also knew someone misunderstood and lonely that turned cruel to protect himself.

He knew that their story wouldn't end in a tragedy though.

* * *

There was fondness in Baz's eyes when Simon tripped over air on one of their visits to the library.

Simon wanted to see it on a canvas, hung up on a wall for everyone to see.

* * *

He finished _Dracula_ in less than three days, much to Baz's delight.

They discussed the book deep into the night and woke up with matching rings beneath their eyes, but it was worth it.

* * *

Simon _knew_ that something had changed.

The hostility between them had stopped months ago, but now Simon would feel a small flutter whenever Baz looked at him like _that_, as if he was worth listening to, as if he never wanted to look away.

Simon wasn't oblivious. He saw how Baz's eyes lingered on him sometimes, when they were both at the dorm, free of any responsibilities, or how Baz spoke softer than before, his words no longer cutting and laced with venom, but almost fondness when Simon complained about yet another book the other made him read.

And Simon also noticed that he actively seeked the other man out when they were apart for a long time, which had never happened before.

Sometimes, he looked for him after classes and invited him for a coffee to talk, first about the assignment that brought them together in the first place, and then about other things, like Baz's favorite books or movies, he even asked about his classes!

Other times, like right now, he was waiting for the other in the halls, right in front of Baz's class, a hot tea in a thermos in his hands and a plan to ask Baz to come with him to one of the new galleries he had to check out for class.

It didn't take more than ten minutes until the door opened and students walked out, all of them exhausted in some way. He waited until most of them left and then stepped closer, worried that he had gotten the wrong class since he didn't see Baz come out yet.

When he entered the room, he saw Baz standing next to the desk of the professor, both focussed on something on the desk Simon couldn't see. They looked to be in deep discussion, so Simon decided to step a little closer and then wait.

Baz looked different like that. He didn't look at ease, like he was when he was around Simon, he didn't look closed off either. He looked content, his posture as always perfect, but there was a certain softness in his features, as the professor explained something.

Simon loved how many small details made up the other man.

He also loved that he was able to see them so clearly.

There was a small smile on his lips by now and then the professor looked up, a surprised look on his face, before he told Baz that they could discuss the rest later. Baz looked up too and then spotted Simon sitting in one of the many chairs.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, bewildered. Simon thought it was cute how his eyes softened the moment he saw Simon.

"I came to pick you up," the blond replied, then he stood up and stepped closer, "I brought you a tea and then wanted to check out a gallery not far from here."

The professor snorted at that, an amused grin on his mouth before he said, "Well, Baz don't keep your boyfriend waiting then. We can discuss the rest on Friday."

"Wait--"

"Oh, no we aren't--"

They said at the same time, a small flush climbing up their faces. Simon had trouble meeting Baz's eyes, but curiosity won out in the end and he knew he would have to put this look he saw in Baz's eyes on a canvas.

"I apologize then. I just thought--" the professor began, an equally embarrassed look on his face before he gestured between them and then Simon realized that the assumption didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. It made sense, since he did pick up Baz to take to an art gallery. That must have sound awfully romantic.

(Wasn't it though?)

"It's ok," Baz assured, then grabbed his bag and Simon's arm to pull him out of the room, a soft pink still visible on his cheekbones.

* * *

The walk towards the gallery was spent in silence, both seemingly lost in thoughts, until they arrived. Simon had given Baz the thermos right after they left the campus, which resulted in a stammered "thank you" from the other, that had filled Simon with a strange warmth he had only experienced a few times.

He thought he liked it.

The gallery was focussed on portraits. Simon had picked it on purpose, since his assignment involved portraits and because he wanted to see how other artists captured emotions.

Most of them were pretty obvious and easy to understand. Happiness was shown with a smile or glinting eyes, sadness with tears, anger with frowns and veins sticking out of their necks.

He thought it was a shallow way to show something. There was no subtlety or place for imagination. The artist told you what to see.

Simon knew he wouldn't make his paintings as shallow.

Soon, he would have to put everything on canvas and he wanted to make everything perfect, because that's what Baz deserved after he bared his deep emotions for everyone to see.

Baz followed close behind him, his eyes completely focussed on the different styles and portraits of people they both saw around campus regularly. He looked amazed by some of them even, his whole face open and clearly showing how he was taken by the art around him.

It was endearing.

"Your portrait will hang on one of these walls in a few weeks," Simon whispered in order not to interrupt the other gallery visitors. Baz stopped at that, his eyes finding Simon's in an instant.

"Are you... sure?" he questioned, suddenly very hesitant. Simon silently scolded himself for ruining Baz's happiness.

"I mean yeah? The best one of every artist will be featured here for two weeks, so you'll be among these."

Baz simply nodded, slowly wandered off on his own to explore, but Simon knew that he wasn't entirely focussed on the art anymore.

He fucked up.

* * *

Baz had been more distant after that, but he still let Simon draw him whenever the blond asked. Now though, they didn't talk during it, which was endlessly boring to Simon but he saw that Baz didn't want to talk so he didn't push him.

He had also decided that three painting would be enough.

Simon had made a lot more sketches and even more ideas were flowing around in his head, but he didn't want to show the world every single facet of Baz Grimm-Pitch. People would have to find out on their own how amazing Baz really was, if they wanted.

Paint bottles and cans were scattered around him on the ground of the studio, three huge canvases were leaning against the wall and he had his sketchbook opened in his lap, the finished sketches staring up at him.

He had rented the studio for two entire week, since he knew he wouldn't leave before he was done and he also wanted everything to be as perfect as possible, which meant minimum sleep and food and even more painting and hand cramps.

The blond was fine with it.

First, he had to faintly draw Baz onto the canvas, his movements slow but sure in the way Baz's face was shaped, the details of his face almost second nature by now.

He knew them all by heart.

The first canvas would be of Baz smiling.

A rare thing if Simon was honest, but that's exactly why he wanted to have it on canvas. Baz was the constant frowner, so it was even more special to get him to smile and Simon longed for people to see it too, even though he was sure he wouldn't be able to capture every single shift in Baz's face.

He had to try.

The second canvas would show Baz in the library, surrounded by books of all shapes and sizes, completely calm and content.

He would only imply where Baz was. His focues would be on his face to show how relaxed his features were and how his grey eyes shone in such a beautiful way when the moon hit them in that certain angle Simon couldn't forget.

And the last one would be of that one night in their dorm.

He looked so defeated and vulnerable, with those deep shadows underneath his glassy eyes.

Baz hadn't cried, at least not in front of Simon, but he had looked broken down, worn in a way Simon had never seen before and since then, the blond hadn't stopped drawing that particular scene over and over until he could draw it with closed eyes.

* * *

Mixing paint to get the perfect color for his eyes and skin was another matter entirely. Simon had agonized over the subject of paint for weeks now, since he feared that he wouldn't get it *_quite __right_*. He knew it would bother him forever.

It took at least four hours until Simon was satisfied with most of the paint.

And it took even longer to finally start on the paintings. Every time he wanted to start, he stopped and lost himself in Baz's smile or eyes.

* * *

When he finally got his feelings under control again, he began to paint and was fairly quick, even for him. He knew how everything should look like, saw it so damn clearly in his mind so it was easy to let his brush follow the different curves and shapes.

He painted Baz's hair in the deepest black he could find, his eyes in the clearest grey, lit up by the soft yellow light of the sun, as they sat next to their window, his lips in the softest pink he could find and his teeth in a shining white.

It took hours upon hour for him to finish his face and hair alone but when he did he simply stared.

Because Baz's smiling face on a canvas was almost as breathtaking as in real life.

* * *

He barely left the studio. Sometimes Penny came around with food and something to drink and to keep him company, but he never let her see what was beneath the tarp he put over his one and a half finished paintings.

Most of his time was spent with his hand cramping and colours covering his entire body.

But he enjoyed it. Painting had always been something healing for him, something that settled him in the best way.

He had to admit though, that he had only seen glimpses of Baz in all the time he started on the paintings.

And he hated it.

* * *

Simon had decided to paint Baz's grief in shades of grey, to show how bleak the world must have looked from his perspective in that very moment.

He already missed the vibrant shades of color he had used for Baz's smile or to show how calm he looked surrounded by books in all shades.

But he knew that it was the right thing. People wouldn't get lost in the different colours, but in the way Baz had openly showed raw emotions.

He was just about to begin with Baz's eyes, when the door to the studio opened. Simon looked up at the interruption, surprise immediately taking over.

"Baz? What are you doing here?"

The other man looked a little uncomfortable standing in the doorway, a carton of pizza in his hands. "You haven't been around much-- so I thought why not bring you food?"

Simon felt a smile tugging at his lips, then he put the brush down and patted the floor beside himself. Soon after, both were sitting on the floor, a warm piece of pizza in their hands. Their eyes kept darting towards each other before they looked away again, a small blush visible on their cheeks again.

"How has been your progress with the paintings?" Baz asked, then he faced the last of Simon's canvases and he stilled immediately.

A small crease appeared on his forehead, his eyes narrowed and then he looked at Simon again. Simon had forgotten to cover that painting with tarp. _Fuck__._

"That's not one of the drawings I approved," he said, his voice controlled in a way that hid his... anger perhaps? Simon was unsure.

"Listen--," the blond started but then stopped. What should he say? Should he apologize that he hadn't asked? Tell him that he meant to show him the finished project and then await approval?

"I am _listening_." Baz's eyes kept gliding towards the half done painting, his eyes eagerly taking in every detail.

"From when is this?" he questioned quietly.

"Right before you gave me the sketchbook-- you looked so... _defeated_... I wanted to have it on canvas, because that moment-- it showed me that you weren't the cold asshole you liked to claim to be," he tried to explain, his hands kept gesturing towards the canvas, an unsure expression on his face.

"I didn't mean to abuse your-- your trust," he added and hoped that Baz saw that he was sincere.

"What would you have done with it when you're finished?"

It was a sudden question. Baz didn't look pissed, but he also didn't look super happy about it. Simon hope they wouldn't fight.

"Show it to you," the blond admitted, "It was supposed to be a surprise at first, but then I felt bad about not asking you, so I thought if you decided I can't turn it in, you can keep it as a gift."

Then it was silent. Baz seemed to carefully mull over his words, his eyes never leaving the half finished painting. Simon watched him thinking and realized how much he had missed this, this easy settling in beside him, being around him without having to say anything.

"I believe you," Baz said, then he swallowed hard, his eyes finally meeting Simon's again.

Simon felt relief flooding through him, he nodded a few times, his glasses slipping down his nose, before Baz pushed them back up and then stilled.

Stunned, Simon looked at Baz and saw that he was ready to close off again. The blond didn't want that.

Hesitant he reached out and touched Baz's hand, felt his warmth and how soft his pale skin really was.

"Thank you," he murmured, then gave Baz's hand a quick squeeze when he realized Baz didn't want to pull away, "for believing me."

Baz nodded simply, his face open and almost vulnerable. Simon didn't think he could ever forget that look. It was almost unnoticeable how they both leaned farther in, their faces now closer together then ever, but it made sense.

It felt like all the little interacts had led up to this very moment, all the lingering looks and small touches, the shared secrets whispered in dark rooms and deep discussions about books Simon learned to love because of Baz and the way he always lit up when he talked about things he was passionate about.

When their lips touched, there weren't fireworks going off inside them, nor butterflies flying like crazy in their bellies, it was as if a part fell into place that both didn't know they missed, it was deep fondness finally breaking free and feeling right at home on the hard floor of a studio with the stinging smell of paint in their noses, just because the other was right next to them.

It was simply perfect.

Simon knew his glasses were probably smudged by now, he knew that there must be paint clinging to Baz's expensive pants and he also knew that he didn't see himself stopping any time soon.

Not when Baz's lips were on his and his hands were finally buried in those dark, glossy strands of dark hair.

**Author's Note:**

> they FINALLY kissed!! also baz is highly me when talking abt books...
> 
> there'll be one more part and then the series is done!
> 
> next part will come as soon as possible, but I'm also working on two new au's and I'm excited for them! 
> 
> I'd appreciate feedback!  
comments & kudos ♡
> 
> find me on tumblr under [j-morevu](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/j-morevu)


End file.
